Delantrai
by Eccaz
Summary: 4,000 years before the Empire, a prophecy told the end of the lineage of Zacce Nalum, Jedi Guardian of Delantare. When the prophesied child is born, his father sends him away to protect him.  12 years later, the boy returns to free his homeworld from evil
1. Chapter 1

_Star Wars and all related concepts is the copyright of Lucasfilm, Ltd. __Zacce Nalum, Delantare, and related characters and incidents are the intellectual property of myself. No copyright infringement of any kind is intended. This is solely for entertainment purposes._

_PRONUNCIATION GUDIE  
Zacce Nalum - ZAYS NAY-lum  
Delantare - DELL-an-tahr  
Delantrim - dell-AN-trim  
Delantrai - DELL-an-try_

_AUTHOR'S NOTE: This story is a prequel of sorts to the adventures of Zacce Nalum, as told in the Ditto Town roleplay forums. It tells the story of Zacce's birth and how he became Guardian of Delantare. The complete story of Zacce Nalum can be found at my website (check my profile for the URL)._

___This story is dedicated to all my friends from NarniaWeb. Thank you for the great time we had writing together, and for giving me a love of writing. _

___Anyway! On to the story!  
__[These events take place 39 years before the Battle of Yavin (Star Wars: Episode IV - A New Hope)_

**CHAPTER 1**  
Night.

Thunder rumbled from the murky black clouds that gathered over the Sith Fortress of Delantare. The only light came from the occasional flash of lightning, and the low, steady beams of visible red energy that passed between the spires of the Fortress. Its five obsidian pyramids reflected the light, letting anyone see the outlines of the symbol of the Dark Side on Delantare.

Not that anyone was outside to see it. None of the Delantrim dared get this close to the Fortress. The way was treacherous, and the place reeked of the Dark Side of the Force. The Fortress had been built by a group of sorcerers that had been exiled from their homeworld, and had found their way to the remote, forest covered Outer Rim world.

No matter how ominous the outside seemed, however, it was what went on on the inside that terrified the Delantrim the most. For within, dwelled the most feared beings on all of Delantare:

The Delantare Sith Brotherhood.

For nearly six hundred standard years, the Brotherhood had plagued Delantare, making countless attempts to take over Delantare City and enslave the Delantrim. Time and time again, they were defeated by the descendants of Jedi Knight Zacce Nalum, the Guardians of Delantare.

However, no matter how many times they were defeated, no matter how many of their number were slain, the Brotherhood endured. They had to. They knew the day would come when the Prophecy of Delantare would be fulfilled. They knew the day would come when the twenty-fourth male bearer of the name Zacce Nalum would be born. They knew the day would come when the words spoken by an ancient Sith Lord would come to pass:

_"For twenty-four wounds, shall be twenty-four lives. Then the Legacy of Nalum shall end."_

That day was here.

Hurried footsteps echoed throughout one of the dark corridors within the Fortress. Darth Ray, one of the Ruling Ten, rushed to bring the news he had to his Master. Sweat glistened on his brow, and he shook it away as it dripped onto the solar visor he always wore over his eyes. He couldn't tell if he was sweating from exertion or fear. He could never predict how his Master would react to things. Darth Venade was not known for his mental stability, but it was his raw power that kept him in charge. He had even caused one of the Ten to go mad simply because he had pointed out a stain on his cloak. This prompted his name to become Darth Rave. And Venade had used Sith alchemy to permanently mutate Darth Scald and Darth Turbine into hideous creatures with fleshy wheels instead of feet when they chuckled in sinister anticipation before Venade had a chance to.

So, it was understandable that Darth Ray was nervous when he entered Darth Venade's audience chamber and knelt (at a safe distance) before the throne of his Master. The other eight members of the Ruling Ten sat in small, stone chairs that lined the sides of the room. Venade's ornately carved throne sat in the middle of a vast dais that required even a full-grown Wookie to look up at him.

Darth Venade remained silent for quite some time. His face, or what could be seen of it beneath the hood of his black cloak, was expressionless as he regarded his minion. Finally, in a deep voice that rumbled with power, Venade spoke.

"What news do you bring, Lord Ray?"

Ray remained kneeling, and kept his eyes averted from the face of his Master. He couldn't bring his head up without choking on the clasp of this cloak. When he had kneeled, he had accidently caught the tail of his cloak under his knees, and he didn't dare move until Venade gave him leave.

"My Lord," Ray began in his raspy voice, "I bring you news of the greatest importance."

"I will be the judge of that," Venade interrupted. "Go on."

"I have confirmed the report brought by our spies. Nalum's wife has given birth to a son."

The other eight Rulers exchanged shocked glances. Could it be? All eyes turned on Venade, to see how he would react.

At first, he didn't. But when he did, they were surprised at his first response.

"How is she?"

Ray tilted his head to one side. "Nalum's wife? She died shortly after the child was born. Complications of some sort."

Venade's hooded head bowed and his shoulders sagged slightly. The Rulers looked curiously on their leader.

"What is the child's name?" Venade asked, his voice hard as the obsidian walls around them.

Ray braced himself for whatever Venade would throw at him and declared:

"Zacce Nalum The Twenty-Fourth."

"The child of the Prophecy…" Venade muttered to himself. In a swift movement that made everyone flinch involuntarily, the Dark Lord was on his feet and his arms were outstretched.

"Brothers!" he shouted. Using the Force, he amplified his voice so that all within the Fortress could hear. "Our hour has come at last! The end of our greatest foe is at hand! To arms! We attack the City at once! Nalum and his son shall die this day! The Prophecy of Delantare shall be fulfilled! Delantare will be ours at long last!"

With a swirling of cloak, Darth Venade leapt from the dais and strode to the doors on the opposite side of the chamber. With a flick of his hand, the doors flew open, and the Ruling Ten of the Delantare Sith Brotherhood marched to assemble their troops for their day of glory.


	2. Chapter 2

_Star Wars and all related concepts is the copyright of Lucasfilm, Ltd. __Zacce Nalum, Delantare, and related characters and incidents are the intellectual property of myself. No copyright infringement of any kind is intended. This is solely for entertainment purposes._

_PRONUNCIATION GUDIE  
Zacce Nalum - ZAYS NAY-lum  
Delantare - DELL-an-tahr  
Delantrim - dell-AN-trim  
Delantrai - DELL-an-try_

_AUTHOR'S NOTE: These events take place a few hours after the end of Chapter 1.  
_

**CHAPTER 2**  
Jedi Knight Zacce Nalum XXIII stood over the cradle of his sleeping infant son. He was filled with such a storm of emotions. On the one hand, he was overjoyed at the birth of his first child. But on the other hand, his heart was broken at the death of his wife. And then there was the Prophecy that foretold that his son, the child that lay asleep before him, would be the last of their bloodline.

Zacce hadn't slept since his son's birth less than a week before. How could he? He expected any moment to see him disappear into the shadows that filled the dark room. His once vibrant brown and gold eyes were dull with fatigue and grief.

Why? Why did his wife have to die? Why now, of all times? He had asked himself this a thousand times since it happened, and still the answer eluded him. He had tried to determine the will of the Force, but he found nothing. He had sought the wisdom of a Jedi holocron, but came out empty-handed. He felt as if his life was falling apart, and there was nothing he could do to stop it.

A knock on the door shook Zacce out of his thoughts. He sighed. He had had so many visitors the last few days; he was sick of having company and just wanted to be alone with his son and his grief. But his duties as the Jedi Guardian of Delantare compelled him to answer any calls he received.

Too tired to leave his post by the crib, he waved his hand and the door hissed open, prompted by Zacce's Force powers. At that moment, a flash of lightning illuminated the darkness and revealed the silhouette of a stocky, muscular man. He stepped inside and allowed the door to close behind him before he spoke.

"_Tha __sinn__ fodham__, Delantrai_," the man said in the native Delantrim tongue.

"_Tha __sinn __fodham__, Alan_," Zacce replied. "What can I do for you?"

Alan Macamh, for that was the visitor's name, shrugged. "I just came to see how you were doing, Zacce. There seems to be this veil of darkness that has fallen over the entire planet. Not the best setting for a new life to enter the universe."

"Tell me about it," Zacce sighed. "I keep hoping that Rianna will come in, take little Zacce up into her arms and rock him to sleep," He blinked back tears. "But I know that will never happen. She's gone, Alan. Gone forever. My son is the only family I have left."

"You still have friends, Delantrai," Alan stood beside Zacce and gripped the younger man's shoulder. Alan Macamh was in charge of Delantare City's defenses, and Zacce often looked to him for guidance and advice. Even though Zacce was wise beyond his twenty-five years, he knew that he could always learn from those who had lived longer than himself.

"Everyone in the City is indebted to you and your ancestors a dozen times over," Alan continued. "You all have lived among us, protected and served the Delantrim for so many years, there isn't a man, woman or child within these walls that would not give their lives for you and yours. Let your friends help you carry this burden."

Zacce smiled tiredly at Alan. Though it was but half-hearted, it was the first time he'd smiled in a week, and he felt renewed strength with it.

"Thank you, my friend. I will take your words to heart."

"Well, there's no time like the present," Alan said with a grin. "You go get some sleep. I'll keep watch over the child."

Zacce opened his mouth to protest, but Alan held up his hand to stop him.

"Now, now," he said. "I'll be taking no arguments from you, Master Nalum. I've raised three sons of my own, and am no stranger to caring for little ones. You need your rest. Go."

Zacce hesitated for a moment, and with a grateful sigh, he nodded silently and turned to go to his room, pausing briefly to stroke the sleeping infant's face. Once the bedroom door had closed, Alan turned his attention to the sleeping child before him.

"Well, little one," he whispered. "Looks like it's just you and me now. I know everyone's worried about that Prophecy, but I for one don't give it much credence, and you shouldn't either. You do your best to do good, and to walk in your father's footsteps, and you won't go wrong."

His kind smile died suddenly. He felt uneasy. All Delantrim were Force sensitive to a degree, but only members of the Nalum bloodline ever undertook full Jedi training. Nevertheless, Alan had a distinct feeling that something was wrong. Placing his hand on the butt of the laser pistol he wore on his belt, he walked cautiously to the front door of the house. A flash of lightning illuminated his alert face for a brief moment, and he thought he saw a black-cloaked figure dart past the window at that moment. His eyes widened in alarm and he began to draw his pistol from its holster.

He never made it. There was a sudden surge of Dark Side power, and unbearable pain stabbed through Alan's mind. He fell to the floor without uttering a sound, dead. Another surge of the Force tore the door from its frame and tossed it outside. Three cloaked figures stepped into the room and approached the crib of the now awake child. The three beings encircled the crib, and the middle one held his hand over the child, lightning beginning to crackle at his fingertips.

Suddenly, the baby began to cry, and the Force gathered around him. The dark beings stepped back, startled, but it didn't do them any good. With a piercing wail, a mighty blast of telekinetic power radiated from the infant Nalum, sending the three Darksiders flying into the wall behind them, one crashing through a window into the street outside.

Zacce Nalum was out of his room, blue lightsaber blazing in his hand at that moment. He slew one of the intruders with a swift stroke to the chest before he could get up, and his second strike cleft the arm off the other as he drew his crimson blade. A third stroke to the man's neck ended his cry of pain.

After ensuring the safety of his son, he checked Alan. Finding that nothing could help the man, he quickly gathered up his son and ran out the back door into the alleyway behind the house. He had to get the child to safety before any more Brotherhood goons attacked.

No sooner had that thought crossed his mind, than he found himself face to face with the third assassin. The Dark Jedi chuckled uncontrollably, and Zacce recognized him as Darth Rave, one of the Ruling Ten of the Brotherhood. Zacce knew he couldn't fight one as powerful as Rave with his son in his arms, so he Force-leapt onto the roof of his house and began to run, jumping from rooftop to rooftop, Rave in hot pursuit.

As he ran, Zacce sent a telepathic message to the first Delantrim he could establish a mental link with. He quickly told him what had happened, and told the man to rally the Delantrim to arms. Zacce knew that if his son was to survive, he would have to get him off planet. He needed the Delantrim to keep the Brotherhood at bay while he made his way to the City's spaceport.

He sensed his message had been received and was being carried out. _Good, _he thought to himself. _Now I can concentrate on getting Rave off my tail._

He chanced a glance behind him and saw that Rave had gained on him. The crazed Darksider's hood had blown off his face, revealing wild eyes and long, unkempt hair that trailed behind him like a storm cloud. Rave's fiery red lightsaber burned in his hand, and its crimson light reflected in his eyes like blazing hellfire.

Zacce turned back to the path before him just in time to realize he'd run out of houses to run across. Using the Force to cushion his fall, he hit the ground, falling into a crouch to help absorb the shock of the impact. Just as Rave was about to clear the edge of the rooftop, Zacce pushed with the Force, directing the blow at Rave's foot. He got the desired effect of throwing Rave off-balance, and the evil man fell to the ground with a frightened shriek. Rave's landing was less than graceful, and the impact knocked him out cold. Zacce continued on his run to the spaceport, using the Force to propel him to superhuman speeds.

He reached the hangar in minutes and skidded to a halt inside. He could sense that the Delantrim warriors were engaged in battle with several Brotherhood soldiers somewhere in the City. He had no time to waste. He ran towards a ship, but a warning from the Force stopped him just in time. The small craft suddenly lurched into the air and was crushed as if in a giant invisible hand. The remains of the vessel were casually tossed aside into another ship, shattering it in a shower of sparks and debris.

Zacce shifted his son to his left arm, and ignited his lightsaber with his right. His gold-striped eyes scanned the spacious hangar, searching for the threat. He didn't have to search long. From a corner of the room enveloped in shadows, Darth Venade strode forward, flanked by Darth Scald and Darth Turbine. Zacce winced when he saw them. _Figures it'd be the strongest one and the ugliest ones, _he thought.

Venade's voice echoed sinisterly off the hangar walls, "You know Nalum, I'm quite offended that I never received a notice of your son's birth. I had to rely on my spy network to inform me of your blessing. However, I'm sure that you've been so excited and busy, that it simply slipped your mind, so I'll forgive you and offer you my congratulations. How's your lovely wife Rianna?"

Zacce gritted his teeth and his grip on his lightsaber hilt tightened. "Don't you ever speak her name, Venade," he growled.

"Come, come! So emotional! Surely you didn't really think your happy life would last forever! After all, there's a Prophecy to be fulfilled! Your bloodline will end. Here. Now.

Starting with your child."


	3. Chapter 3

_Star Wars and all related concepts is the copyright of Lucasfilm, Ltd. __Zacce Nalum, Delantare, and related characters and incidents are the intellectual property of myself. No copyright infringement of any kind is intended. This is solely for entertainment purposes._

**Chapter 3**

Zacce altered his stance to partially hide is son from Venade's sight, keeping his ignited lightsaber between himself and the Dark Jedi the entire time.

"If you want to get to him, you're going to have to kill me first," he said threateningly.

"Nothing would please me more, Nalum," Venade replied, crossing his arms in front of his chest triumphantly. "You don't stand a chance against the three of us without setting the boy down. And, of course, if you do that it will be a simple matter for us to destroy him."

Zacce gritted his teeth. "You'd really murder a helpless baby?"

"Hello? I'm evil, remember?" Venade chuckled.

"Not to mention bloody insane," Zacce retorted.

Venade became still immediately. His evil smile died and his lips pressed together in a grim line. Scald and Turbine exchanged worried glances. They knew that there was nothing that Venade hated more than having his sanity questioned. Someone was about to die.

"Scald… Turbine…" Venade began, his countenance stony and his voice ice cold.

"Kill him."

Fearfully obedient, the two mutants rolled around their master, the fleshly wheels they sported in place of feet and legs padding softly on the durasteel floor. As they rolled slowly towards Zacce, they drew two lightsabers each, the crimson beams hissing into existence in their hands. Zacce planted his feet firmly on the ground, bracing to meet their attack. His eyes swiftly searched his surroundings, looking for some means of defending himself.

With a shrill battle cry, the two Dark Jedi flew at Zacce, lightsabers held high. Zacce quickly swung his lightsaber to point towards a drum of fuel that stood at a nearby wall. When Scald and Turbine had half-crossed the distance that separated them, Zacce swung his saber in an arc from the drum to the Darksiders, pushing with the Force. The drum fell over, the lid falling off and the fluids inside spilled on the floor. Zacce's Force powers caused the fuel to flow rapidly into the path of the wheeled attackers. Too late to alter their course, Scald and Turbine hit the slick liquid at full speed and lost their traction, sending them to the ground.

Unfortunately, Zacce hadn't counted on the fact that Scald's lightsaber blade would hit the fuel, igniting it. The fuel exploded, sending Zacce and Venade flying backwards, and Scald and Turbine flying upwards, screaming and on fire.

Recovering quickly, and ensuring that his son was still safe, Zacce took advantage of the wall of fire that separated him from Venade and quickly ran into a small cruiser that stood nearby. It minutes, he had the ship sealed, the child secured safely, and had taken his place in the pilot's seat. With the fire spreading towards the other fuel drums, he didn't have time to wait for the ship's systems to warm up. Opening himself up completely to the Force, he telekinetically lifted the ship through the open roof and out of the hangar.

He got clear just in time. The fire reached the other drums, and a massive explosion rocked the hangar, tearing the structure apart. The fire spread from ship to ship, causing each one to explode in turn. Soon, the entire hangar was a mass of explosions and flames. By that time, the ship Zacce was in was ready for flight, and Zacce let go of his Force-hold on it, allowing the ship's repulsors to keep it aloft. Kicking the engines on, Zacce took the ship into a steep climb out of Delantare's atmosphere and into the void of space. In minutes, he sent the ship into hyperspace, and set a course for Coruscant. Unstrapping from the pilot's chair, he went back to where he had strapped his infant son, praying that he had survived the flight. His relief knew no bounds when he found little Zacce sleeping peacefully, without a care in the world. Zacce could finally bring himself to relax and collapsed into a nearby chair, falling asleep himself almost instantly.

Back on Delantare, Darth Venade extracted himself from the wall of smoke that poured from the blazing hangar. Nearly doubled over from coughing, he stumbled away from the inferno towards the shadows of a neighboring building. When his lungs finally cleared, he noticed that the hood of his cloak had fallen away from his face. He quickly wrapped the tattered remains of his cloak around his head, once again hiding his features from sight.

This task accomplished, he looked around, with both the Force and his eyes, for Scald and Turbine. He didn't think they had survived the blast, but he was surprised to see them both crawling away from the fire, very weak and badly burned, but alive. He considered leaving them to die of their injuries or to be killed by the approaching Delantrim, but they were still too valuable to him. So he ran over to them, and picked them up, one under each arm. Ignoring their cries of pain, he ran back into the shadows, narrowly escaping discovery by the Delantrim that had arrived to fight the fire. As Venade ran back to the secret entrance they used to gain access to the City, he telepathically ordered his troops to retreat.

_Nalum will return once he has taken his brat to safety, _Venade thought to himself. _And once he gets back, we will give him no rest, wearing him out slowly with constant attacks. I _will_ destroy Zacce Nalum, even if I must sacrifice the entire Brotherhood to do so, even if I have to destroy Delantare itself! I will __destroy him and make him pay for what he has done to me._

With that thought consuming his mind, Venade and the Brotherhood forces left the City, bathed in the red glow of the fire, behind and disappeared into the forest beyond the City walls. 


	4. Chapter 4

_Star Wars and all related concepts is the copyright of Lucasfilm, Ltd. __Zacce Nalum, Delantare, and related characters and incidents are the intellectual property of myself. No copyright infringement of any kind is intended. This is solely for entertainment purposes._**  
**

**Chapter 4**

_Twelve years later…_

The sound of crackling lightsaber blades echoed through the sparring chamber in the Jedi Temple on Coruscant. The light of the deadly blades cast multi-colored shadows on the faces of the three sole occupants of the spacious arena. Two of the faces glistened with sweat, and their young brows were furrowed in concentration. The leathery contours of the third face remained a stony mask, only the owner's eyes moved to follow the movements of the two that performed the deadly dance in the center of the room.

Only, the dance was not as deadly as it appeared, and the fiery blades were not as hazardous to one's mortality as they seemed at first glance. For the blue and green beams were actually low-powered training lightsabers, and the two combatants were Padawans, mere children. And it was not a battle of life and death that was being fought, but a simple training exercise being conducted under the watchful eyes of Weequay Jedi Master Sora Bulq.

The two young Jedi-in-training circled each other, each gripped their lightsaber hilts tighter with sweaty palms. Their steps were sure, and their faces never moved from facing their opponent. Their eyes were closed in concentration. Not that they could see if they were open anyway. They were both blindfolded, part of Master Bulq's mandate for this exercise. They only had their senses, and the Force, to rely on to guide them in this battle.

The older of the two dove and rolled to his left as the younger struck a strong overhead blow. She let loose a short yell of frustration as she felt her blade collide with the durasteel floor, and she quickly swung around to correct her position. The boy leapt to his feet and struck out with a series of strikes as different heights and angles, advancing with each blow. The girl retreated, her footing never faltering, and she successfully parried each strike that the boy rained down on her. With a duck and a spin, the girl managed to break away from the attack before she could be forced into a wall. The boy whirled to face her, dropping to the ground and sweeping his leg in a wide arch designed to knock his opponent's legs out from underneath her.

However, she sensed his attack with the Force and dodged it, leaping high into the air, turning her leap into a backflip and landing lightly on her feet several meters further away from the boy. For a moment, the two stood still, facing one another, trying to predict the other's movements, and trying to catch their breath.

The girl moved first, stamping her front foot in a feint. It worked. The boy flinched to block an attack that never came. That split second of reaction was all the girl needed. She leapt forward, swinging low. The boy brought his saber down to block, twisting out of the way in the process, but he was too slow. The girl's blade grazed the calf muscle of his right leg, causing him to cry out in pain and frustration at the sting of the blade. He could already feel a welt form where the training blade had struck.

"Hold!"

Both Padawans instantly froze as Sora Bulq's gruff voice filled the room. They waited a moment for him to continue.

"Tayra has struck a fair blow. Deactivate your lightsabers and remove your blindfolds."

The two quickly complied. After all, every Padawan knew that Master Bulq was a no-nonsense, strict instructor, and if he told you to do something, you did it without question or hesitation. He didn't normally teach Temple classes, but if there was a lull between missions, he might take the time to run a few worthy Padawans through their paces with the lightsaber. Being selected by him for one of these special sessions was a great honor, as Master Bulq was one of the best swordsmen in the Jedi Order. There were even rumors that he was training with Mace Windu himself to develop a new fighting style that only the most powerful of Jedi could use!

The girl got her blindfold off first, shaking out her shoulder-length white-blonde hair. She blinked rapidly to accustom her black eyes to the sudden return of light, and wiped her forehead with the back of her hand. She was very pretty, and looked somewhat younger than her eleven years.

The boy removed his blindfold and heaved an exhausted sigh. His brown hair was cut in typical Padawan fashion, with the long, tight braid dangling down his back. He was a year older than the girl, his face non-descript but for his eyes. It was his eyes that made one look twice at him. They were amber brown, with sparkling gold stripes running through the irises. They seemed to exude a strength and wisdom that was unusual to see in one his age.

The Padawans faced Master Bulq and waited for his critique of the battle. After standing in quiet contemplation for a few moments, Bulq turned his attention fully on the boy.

"Zacce," he said, "Why did you lose?"

Zacce Nalum XXIV, for that was who the boy was, replied dutifully, "I was listening to Tayra's movements with my ears, rather than sensing them with the Force."

Sora Bulq shook his head.

"No. You lost because you held back. I have seen you spar with other Padawans, and you are one of the best in your age group. You could have beaten her fairly easily, but you were holding back, keeping yourself from truly attacking her. Why?"

Zacce did not hesitate in his answer, and looked the stern Jedi Master fully in the face.

"Tayra is my best friend, Master. I could never bring myself to harm her."

"Zacce, you cannot allow the attachment of friendship to cloud your judgment in battle. There will come a time when people will profess to be your friends, with the intent of betraying you. "

"I know that will never happen with Tayra, Master," Zacce replied boldly. The girl smiled gratefully at him, but a glare from Master Bulq caused it to fade quickly.

"Well," Bulq huffed, "That's an area you must work on improving. Other than that, you both did very well. Dismissed." Bulq fold his arms across his powerful chest as the two youngsters bowed respectfully to him. He inclined his head in return and the Padawans turned and left the room. They waited until the door had hissed shut behind them before speaking.

"Sheesh!" Tayra said slyly to Zacce, "How long has Sora Bulq been sitting on that muja thorn?"

Zacce clamped his hand over his mouth to keep from laughing out loud.

"Tayra!" he said warningly, "Be careful, he may be able to hear you!"

Tayra made no effort to hide her laugh, and Zacce soon joined her. They made their way to the Room of A Thousand Fountains to recover from their strenuous exercise. Zacce Nalum and Tayra Palum shared a bond that had been formed when they were Younglings training under Master Yoda. Neither of them remembered how they became friends, only that they had been the best of friends every since. They had enjoyed many romps through the recreation areas in the Temple, and had done most of their training together. Since Tayra was a year behind Zacce due to her age, their classes together had become fewer, which made the time they had together even more precious. Had attachments been permitted by the Jedi Code, those inclined to be matchmakers would have seen a future for those two. They were too young for such thoughts, though, and so were friends only.

Zacce and Tayra spent the next hour playing, relaxing and just talking in the Room of A Thousand Fountains, the most popular area of the Jedi Temple. Finally, they laid side by side on the bank of one of the swimming holes, drying themselves in the artificial sunlight that bathed the room with its warm glow, and just drinking in the peaceful silence that always seemed to fill the place. After a while, Tayra turned to face Zacce.

"Thanks," she said.

"For what?" Zacce asked curiously.

"Thanks for what you said to Master Bulq. About never harming me. I'm glad to know that there's someone who will never hurt me in any way."

"You're my best friend, Tayra. That's what friends are for."

Their conversation was interrupted by the approach of a Jedi Knight. He cleared his throat to gain Zacce and Tayra's attention.

Once he had it, he asked, "Excuse me, I'm looking for Padawan Zacce Nalum."

Zacce stood up respectfully. "I'm Zacce Nalum," he said.

"The Council has summoned you. I'm to take you to the Council Chambers immediately."

Zacce and Tayra exchanged shocked glances. "Is he in trouble," Tayra asked nervously.

"I don't know," the Knight replied. "Come, Zacce. The Council is waiting."

Zacce quickly got his things together and followed the Knight out of the room, waving to Tayra as he left. She returned the wave, her brow furrowed in worry and confusion. What did the Jedi Council want with Zacce?


	5. Chapter 5

_Star Wars and all related concepts is the copyright of Lucasfilm, Ltd. __Zacce Nalum, Delantare, and related characters and incidents are the intellectual property of myself. No copyright infringement of any kind is intended. This is solely for entertainment purposes._

AUTHOR'S NOTE: _Sorry for the delay in getting this chapter done. I've made it nice and long to make up for it. :-)_**  
**

**Chapter 5**

Zacce had to jog to keep up with the Jedi Knight's long strides. The Knight wasn't the talkative type, so they both remained silent on the short turbolift ride up to the top level of the Jedi Temple. The lift door hissed open, and Zacce and his escort made a beeline for the closed door of the Council Chambers. The Knight touched a panel by the door, causing a small red light to flash. After a moment, the light turned green and the door hissed open.

"You may enter," the Jedi Knight said to Zacce and promptly walked away.

Zacce took a deep breath to calm himself. This wasn't the first time he had stood before the Jedi Council, but it always made him nervous. He had a unique relationship with the leaders of the Jedi Order. He had known for some time that his circumstances for being at the Temple were different than other Padawans', and that any day he would be summoned before the Council and be told that it was time for him to leave.

And then, there were the other times when he had been summoned, usually with Tayra, to be reprimanded, lectured and punished for the various ruckuses the pair caused, especially when they were younger. Zacce had mellowed out pretty quick, but Tayra still had a wild streak that would constantly find them in trouble with the Masters.

But it had been well nigh two years since they had done anything that would get either of them in that sort of trouble. What did the Council want him for?

_You won't know until you go in,_ Zacce told himself and with a final moment of hesitation to strengthen himself, he walked into the room where the greatest and most powerful Jedi in the Order sat.

The first thing Zacce noticed was that he was not the only one having an audience with the Council. In the center of the room stood a tall human male, appearing to be in his late 30's, and dressed in standard Jedi robes. His brown hair was so light it was almost blonde, and it rippled down past his shoulders. His high cheek bones were covered in a short beard that was just beginning to show hints of gray. His eyes were constantly changing in color, depending on how the light struck them. At one moment, they were dazzling brown, the next they were a deep green. Although his cloak and tunic obscured his form, his broad shoulders made it clear that he was very muscular.

Zacce stood a few feet away from the man and faced Master Yoda, bowing respectfully. Straightening, he looked the aged green Jedi Master full in the face, waiting for him to speak. He knew Yoda would be the first to speak. He always was whenever Zacce was there.

His prediction was true. "Summoned you, we have," Yoda began in his gravelly voice and inverted syntax, "for important news there is."

Zacce glanced around, seeing if he could pick up any clues from the other Jedi Masters. His gaze quickly swept over the wrinkled face of Ki-Adi-Mundi, the stern visage of Saesee Tiin, the emotionless Plo Koon, and finally ended on the piercing gaze of Mace Windu. Once their eyes met, Mace took up the conversation.

"As you know, Zacce, you were brought to us by your father to protect you from his enemies on your homeworld of Delantare." Zacce nodded. He had known the circumstances surrounding his arrival since he had been old enough to understand. Mace Windu continued, "And you know that your father said that he would return for you when you had reached your twelfth year."

Saesee Tiin took up the narrative. "He also said that if he had not come six months after your twelve birthday, that we were to send you back to Delantare. Six months have come and gone, and we have not received any word from your father." He paused a moment to let this sink in. Zacce again nodded, unsure of how else to respond.

"Decided, we have," Yoda cut in, "That honor your father's request we will, but send you alone we will not. Send you with Master Jekrth Ta'an, we will." Yoda gestured to the man beside Zacce, and Zacce looked up at him. Jekrth Ta'an returned Zacce's gaze and smiled kindly.

"He is a friend of your father's," Ki-Adi-Mundi explained, "and is one of the few Coruscant Jedi to have been to Delantare before. The Delantrim Jedi are… solitary, and do not usually have much contact with us, or we with them. It has been so for nearly a millennium."

Zacce looked back at the Masters and finally spoke. "Why hasn't my father returned?"

"We fear the war with the Brotherhood may prevent him from leaving," Mace Windu said. "However, since we have not even had any transmitted correspondence with your father, we fear his situation may be dire. That is the other reason we are sending you with Master Ta'an. He will assess the situation, and determine if it is safe for you to remain, or if it would be better for you to return to Coruscant to complete your Jedi training."

Zacce remained silent, wrestling with all that he had just heard. He knew that he would have to leave the Temple one day, but it had always been _one day. _And now, it was here. Life at the Jedi Temple had been all he knew, and he wasn't sure he wanted to leave it. But as he thought about it, he remembered something that had happened to him a few months before.

He had been talking with Tayra in the Room of a Thousand Fountains when he had suddenly felt a presence brush against his mind, as if someone was trying to speak with him telepathically. The presence left before Zacce could grab hold of it to establish a link, but he instinctively knew who it was. It had been his father reaching out to him. In that brief moment, Zacce had sensed his father's love for him, and how much he longed to see him again.

It was the memory of that encounter that allowed Zacce to make his decision. Even though he would be leaving the only world he had ever known, he knew that a loving father waited for him on Delantare. If there was one thing Zacce longed for that he couldn't have at the Temple, it was a family.

Realizing that the Council was waiting for him to respond, Zacce raised his chin slightly and looked Mace Windu fully in the eyes.

"I am ready to face whatever awaits me on Delantare. I am ready to go home."

Mace studied Zacce a moment before nodding slowly.

"Yes, I believe you are. Very well. Pack your things and say your goodbyes. Master Ta'an will meet you at the hangar bay."

Zacce bowed to the Council and to Jekrth Ta'an and walked briskly out of the Council Chambers, standing tall with shoulders squared with resolve.

-----------------------------------

A few hours later, Zacce was strapping on his crash webbing in the co-pilot seat of a YT-1150 Jedi transport while Jekrth Ta'an finished the pre-flight check in the pilot's seat. As they lifted off from the pad and exited Coruscant's atmosphere, Zacce couldn't help but reflect on the past twelve years he had spent on the capital world. Leaving Tayra was the hardest. She had come to his quarters while he was in the process of packing, had immediately guessed what was going on and had promptly burst into tears. At first Zacce had tried to comfort her, but he quickly began weeping too. They both vowed that they would always be friends, and Zacce promised to visit her as soon as he was able.

As Master Ta'an threw the ship into hyperspace, Zacce returned to the present and watched in awe as the stars around them elongated into a swirling tunnel of blue light. Jekrth noticed Zacce's wide-eyed gaze and smile knowingly.

"You've never traveled through hyperspace before, have you Zacce?"

Zacce shook his head slowly. "I've never seen anything like it," he said softly. "_Gle __mhath_," he whispered to himself. Jekrth heard and inclined his head curiously.

"You know Delantrim?" he asked. Zacce realized he had been overheard and looked away embarrassedly.

"I studied it a bit in my spare time. Madame Nu was able to find some information on it in the Archives," he admitted.

"It's nothing to be embarrassed about, Zacce. It's good that you've been studying your homeworld's language."

Zacce shrugged and didn't answer, continuing to gaze out the viewport. Jekrth returned his focus to the ship's controls and made some minor adjustments. With a sigh, he leaned back in his seat and stretched his arms above his head. This movement caused his lightsaber to become dislodged from its clip on his belt, slip between the crash webbing and clatter to the floor. Zacce whirled around at the noise and saw the saber lying between their seats. He was surprised to see that it wasn't the standard cylinder shape of most lightsabers, but was longer, and curved in a scimitar shape. Jekrth realized what had happened and quickly ended his stretch.

"Dratted clip. I've got to get it fixed one of these days." He held out his hand, and the lightsaber leapt into his grip. As he reattached it to his belt, Zacce spoke up.

"I… I've never seen a lightsaber shaped like that before," he said shyly.

Jekrth chuckled. "I wish I could take credit for the design, but I'd be lying if I did. I actually fashioned it after Master Dooku's. I've always been an admirer of his 'saber style," he explained.

Zacce thought about this for a moment. "So you use _Makashi_, then? Do you fight many opponents that are armed with lightsabers?"

Jekrth did a double take. He hadn't expected a Padawan to know much about the different lightsaber fighting styles. "Well… not really," he confessed. "I like the style and finesse of it though." Shifting awkwardly in his seat, he sought to divert the conversation away from himself.

"Do you have a preferred form, young one?"

Zacce answered without hesitating. "I tend to use _Djem__ So_, but I'll use _Ataru_ to throw my opponent off balance if I need to."

Jekrth looked hard at Zacce, who still did not make eye contact. _Is this kid pulling my leg? _he thought.

"Are you sure you're only twelve years old? You seem to know an awful lot about lightsaber combat," he asked incredulously. Zacce replied with a shrug.

"I've always tried to learn everything I can. Master Drallig says that I seem to have a knack for using a lightsaber," he said matter-of-factly. He wasn't bragging. If anything, telling this to Jekrth embarrassed him. Zacce didn't like talking about his skill with the lightsaber. The truth was, Sora Bulq's assessment of his skills during his sparring bout with Tayra had been quite accurate. Zacce was unusually gifted in combat prowess and skill for one as young as he.

Jekrth shook his head in wonder and chuckled. "You know Zacce, you sounded like your father just then. Always too modest when it came to his own skills. You may not know this, Zacce, but your father is one of the most gifted Jedi I have ever met. It seems you've inherited his potential. You two will be a force to be reckoned with when you two get together."

Zacce finally met Jekrth's gaze. Confusion, fear and uncertainty swirled like a storm in his eyes.

"Master Ta'an... Ki-Adi Mundi said you're a good friend of my father's. What's he like?"

In that one question, Jekrth Ta'an understood why Zacce had been so quiet. He may be skilled with the Force, but he was still just a child. A child that had been torn from the only world he knew to go to live with a father he had never met, to aid him in a battle that had been waged for centuries, and to take on the responsibility of protecting an entire planet. The boy was scared. Scared of the unknowns that clouded the path before him. Jekrth looked into Zacce's eyes and spoke, letting his words flow steadily in a calming stream.

"Your father is a great man. He is the Guardian of Delantare, charged with the protection of its people. Charged, not by the Jedi Council, but by his own desire to protect and serve those who cannot do so for themselves. He has been the only thing stopping Darth Venade from conquering Delantare for the past two-and-a-half decades. He is loved by his people, and feared by his enemies. His love for his wife Rianna, your mother, was pure and has not faded with her death. His love for you is just as steadfast. He is kind, valiant and honorable, loves life, loves to laugh, and hates evil with a passion. He's the sort of man I wish I could be. Your father is a great man, and it is a great honor for you to bear his name, Zacce Nalum."

He stopped speaking and let his words sink in. Zacce looked down and stared at his hands as they rested in his lap, deep in thought.

When he looked back up at Jekrth, his eyes were moist, and there was fire behind them that made the gold streaks flicker like molten metal. A small smile formed on his lips.

"Thank you, Master Ta'an," he said. And that was all he needed to say.

_TO BE CONTINUED..._

AUTHOR'S NOTE: _So, how do you like the story so far? Please rate and review! Constructive criticism is more than welcome. :-)_


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

The journey from Coruscant to Delantare took about a week, with a stop half way on a lonely space station to refuel. During that time, the walls of shyness and awkwardness that Zacce had initially put up on being with Jekrth Ta'an gradually broke down, and by journey's end, the boy considered his escort to be his only friend beside Tayra. He pumped Jekrth full of questions about Delantare, his father, and the war against the Brotherhood.

Jekrth told him all he knew. His other duties prevented him from going to Delantare very often, but he went as frequently as he could. He had even fought against a Brotherhood ambush once and had crossed blades with Darth Ray.

He told Zacce about the war's progress during his stay on Coruscant. Venade had been leading constant skirmishes against the Delantrim of the City over the years, to the point where to leave the City walls was to never return alive. The Brotherhood was brutal, making sneak attacks, sending commando raids into the City to murder random families, and trying to stir up the primitive forest-dwelling Natives to attack the City dwellers. During the last five years, the City was in a state of constant siege.

But through it all, the Delantrim of the City held firm. Their resolve to never give in to the Brotherhood's brutality was unshakable, as was their faith in their Jedi protector. The elder Zacce led the Delantrim in victory time and time again. Every cunning strategem of the Brotherhood was repulsed by an even more clever counter strategy brainstormed by Zacce. He had even managed to lead successful skirmishes of his own and dealt serious blows to the Brotherhood armies.

Zacce was curious why the war was waged in such a primitive fashion. Surely both sides had artillery and spacecraft, and why had Delantare not petitioned to the Republic or at least the Jedi Order to send aide?

Jekrth wasn't sure that anyone knew those answers for certain. He attributed them not sending for help to either stubbornness, pride, independence or a combination of the three. As for the primitive aspect of the war, he surmised it was because the original colonists that built the City had been so ill-equipped with modern weaponry that they had been unable to advance much past what they already possessed. The Brotherhood, likewise, had crashlanded on Delantare from an even more primitive world, so their resources, too, were limited.

"So, not even ships?" Zacce asked.

"The Brotherhood never had access to any," Jekrth answered. "The City's fleet was destroyed when your father took you to Coruscant, and they don't have the resources to build new ones. I imagine the ship your father used is either never used for fear the Brotherhood would get a hold of it, or it was destroyed in one the battles."

"When were you last on Delantare?" Zacce asked some time later. Jekrth had to think for a moment before answering.

"Well, I think it was about two years ago. I hadn't thought it had been that long. Time does fly by, I suppose."

"I hope things are still as good for the City as they were when you left," Zacce said softly, his brow furrowed with concern. Hearing Jekrth's stories over the past few days had birthed a flame of patriotism in the young Zacce's heart, and he had silently vowed to continue his family's duty to the people of Delantare.

"Well, we're about to find out," Jekrth said as he flicked some switches on the console. "We're coming out of hyperspace in three... two... one!" He depressed a button, and the stars suddenly snapped back into twinkling specks against the sea of nothingness. Zacce leaned forward, his eyes wide as he took his first look at the world of his birth.

Delantare hung in front of the ship like an emerald orb. Faint white clouds drifted around the planet as aloofly as they had for millennia, caring nothing for the wars and struggles that had waged below them. There were no oceans or seas, but rather a spider's web of rivers and streams broke up the forested and mountainous landscape. Two small moons, one blue and the other grey, hung behind Delantare, barely grasping on to the gravitational pull of the small world.

"This is Jedi transport _Nova Star _requesting permission to land," Jekrth spoke over the comlink. Zacce waited for a reply, but none came. He cast a worried glance at Jekrth.

"Can they hear us?"

"They ought to, I'm broadcasting on every frequency I can," Jekrth said, his voice edged with concern as he made some adjustments to the signal.

"Maybe the Brotherhood's jamming them?" Zacce suggested after Jekrth made another unsuccessful attempt at making contact.

"I doubt it. They don't have anything more advanced than lightsabers." He tried a third time, but silence continued to be the only response he got from the City.

"I have a bad feeling about this," he muttered as he gunned the ship's engines and sent the ship into atmosphere. Zacce studied the Jedi Knight's face, worry gripping his young heart as he regarded the man's grimly set visage. He closed his eyes and reached out with the Force, not sure what he would find.

His eyes suddenly snapped open and stretched wide in panic.

"They're under attack!" he exclaimed. Jekrth glanced at him uncertainly, but the boy sounded so convinced, he had no choice but to believe him.

"What else do you sense, Zacce?" he asked.

"I... I'm not sure," he said slowly as he searched for the words to describe what he was sensing. "There's... confusion... chaos, but... no fear. Just determination. But there's still something wrong... I can't describe it...."

"There's no hope," Jekrth said grimly. Zacce looked at him, but the Knight's gaze was distant as he searched the Force.

"There's a large army attacking the city," he said softly. "I can feel so many of them gathered together... I didn't think the Brotherhood even had that many warriors... oh no," his shoulders sagged as realization hit him.

"The Natives are on their side," he said, and pushed the engines to their peak. The screamed across the landscape, the forest canopy below was reduced to a streak of green as they soared by. In less than a minute, they came up over a ridge and the City was before them. But it wasn't the City that took their breath away.

Sprawled out for nearly a thousand yards in all directions was a massive encampment. Trees had been felled leaving a massive gaping wound in the landscape around the City. Tents and lean-to's lined the outer edge, no two looking alike. The next ring was lined with primitive wooden catapults, towers and other siege weapons firing all means of projectiles at and over the City walls. The rest of the clearing swarmed with thousands upon thousands of men. From their low altitude, Zacce could see red shafts of light dotting the crowd, denoting where a lightsaber-wielding member of the Brotherhood stood amongst the horde of frenzied Delantrim Natives.

"Oh Force," Jekrth breathed at the sight. He was absolutely baffled that the Natives would be allied with the Brotherhood. When he had last been on Delantare, the Natives were firm allies of the City Dwellers, and had sworn to never join the Brotherhood. Apparently, the Brotherhood convinced them to recant their oath.

Jekrth slowed the ship down as they approached the City. He suddenly realized, as he looked out the viewport, that everyone below, both defender and attacker, had stopped fighting and was watching the ship descend.

"Oh stang, so much for going unnoticed," Jekrth muttered as he pushed the ship faster.

"I thought we wanted the City to know we were here," Zacce said, trying to lighten the mood.

"Yeah, the City, not the whole Brotherhood army," Jekrth said tersely.

The armies had indeed noticed the ship as it had approached. Its engines had been heard over the din of battle before it came into view, but the Jedi on board had been sensed even before that. From his command platform overseeing the battle, Darth Venade had felt the young Nalum's presence the moment they entered atmosphere. It had taken him a moment to identify him, but as soon as the ship came into view, Venade knew exactly who was on board.

"It's him," he said softly, more to himself than to the few members of the Ruling Ten that stood by him. "He has returned."

"Who, Master?" Darth Ray asked, feeling the strong light side presence, but unsure of who it was.

"Nalum's son has come home," Venade said, almost awed at the fact. "At long last, victory shall finally be ours." Raising a hand towards the ship, he bellowed out a command, his voice echoing across the battle field.

"Destroy that ship!"

Everything from large stones to bolts of Force lighting was instantly hurled at the small craft. Jekrth juked and dodged as best as he could, dodging what he could. But many of the shots hit their mark, rocking the craft violently.

"I can't take us over the City,"Jekrth said through gritted teeth. "All that stuff will follow us and we'll get pulverized as soon as we touch down. We got to get out of here."

"But what about the City?" Zacce asked worriedly as he strained to look back at the rapidly diminishing City.

"We'll have to find another way in," Jekrth replied as they rocketed away.

On the walls of Delantare City, the elder Zacce Nalum stood watching as his the ship that bore his son was forced to flee. He had known that he would be returning soon, but had hoped that they would be able to break the siege before the boy's arrival. But since it couldn't be helped, Zacce determined to get his son in safely.

"Come on!" he barked to the men gathered around them. "We've got to give them a clear shot in! Let's go!" Leaping down from the wall, he led his men to the gate. As they ran, Zacce reached out to his son through the Force. The boy jolted where he sat as he felt his father's presence brush his mind, stronger than he had ever felt it before.

"Turn around!" Zacce said excitedly. Jekrth cast him a tired look, but Zacce cut off his protest. "My father's clearing the way for us! We need to hurry!" Jekrth knew better than to argue and swung the transport around, pushing the engines as fast as they would go. Down below, Zacce had led about fifty men in a sortie with the goal of destroying the catapults that posed the biggest threat to the ship. By the time the ship arrived over the battle field, one catapult was on fire and useless, and the guards around the others nearby were too busy defending themselves to fire. Jekrth dodged the smaller projectiles with ease and was soon setting down safely in a cleared street in the center of the City. As soon as the ship flew over the walls, Zacce led his men back to the gates and managed to slip back in with minimal losses, the sentries on the walls laying down a thick cover fire with their blasters.

The Brotherhood rulers looked at Venade in trepidation. They thought for sure their leader would be furious, but instead he smiled slyly under his hood.

"Hold off the attack for now," he said. "Let them celebrate their little victory. They have only sealed their own doom."


End file.
